Cat-and-Mouse
by Ziven
Summary: [OOC, post-canon, altered canon] Bakura isn't a cat person. Unfortunately, Mokuba is. Ryou does some cat-sitting against Bakura's wishes, and there must be consequences for ignoring him, of course. -Intentshipping, Yami Bakura x older!Mokuba-
1. Day One

**Pairing:** Intentshipping (Mokuba x Yami Bakura); I would like to specifically note here that Mokuba is aged up a bit here, around 17 or so (the same age as the other characters at the beginning of the series).

 **Premise/Headcanon:** Bakura isn't quite the villain he used to be. Literally. With Zorc defeated and the Pharaoh in the afterlife, the hollowed-out soul of TKB is given a second chance to do... something. He's not completely restored, not completely unchanged by his ordeal but he's there nonetheless. TL;DR: Bakura has a separate body from Ryou, and a culmination of memories from his time as TKB, shorter time being used by Zorc, and while fuzzy some recollection from the period of time Yami Bakura possessed Ryou.

Mokuba and Bakura are doing a thing; only the gods know what to call it, though.

 **Summary:** [OOC, post-canon, altered canon] Bakura isn't a cat person. Unfortunately, Mokuba is. Ryou does some cat-sitting against Bakura's wishes, and there must be consequences for ignoring him, of course.

 **Continuity:** Some weird in between place, but it leans more towards the manga – meaning that we're gonna have some sassy!Mokuba in here. Kind of a continuation of the universe my other Intentship fic, _Sweet Sixteen_ , takes place in, but hopefully with improved characterization and justified OOCness. You don't have to read that to get this, though – in fact, don't. Thanks!

 **Notes:** This is a gift for Jukeboxx-and-Wrekkord on Tumblr (JukeboxxSheepters on Ao3). This kind of turned into a real story at some point, so I'm not sure that there are enough cats. But there _are_ cats!

Finally applied my post-canon/afterlife line of reasoning to Bakura, and it's an... interesting experience. Also, no cats were harmed in the making of this fanfic.

 **Warnings:** M/M stuff (shounen-ai, whatever you wanna call it); Bakura staring a lot at cats, and being awkward about relationships with various people.

* * *

 **Cat-and-Mouse**

The first time Bakura encountered one of the things, he glowered at it until it turned around and walked away. It looked like a big rat with longer legs and a tail, to him. Big enough to eat. He could probably cook it, if he got hungry. _How did an animal get in the house?_ Maybe he'd left the door open again. _Oh, well_. He supposed that ultimately, it was a problem that Ryou could handle.

Except when he journeyed downstairs to the den, the front door _wasn't_ open and Ryou wasn't poised to fuss at him. That was the way those things usually went. Instead Ryou wasn't concerned with him at all, or the door, and wasn't even the only person there. Apparently Mokuba had seen fit to visit without telling anyone. The animal he'd seen earlier was tucked between arms, held up by one and being petted by another. Whatever conversation they were having stopped once Bakura was in view, and he scowled.

He hated secrecy when it was belonged to other people.

"Oh, hey," Mokuba said, as though showing up with a soft, squishy creature was the least bit normal.

So Bakura met that greeting with silence and simply waited. Words weren't necessary to point out what was wrong here. Few people were tolerated by him besides Ryou and with Mokuba being an – and the only, really – exception, any lack of information was akin to betrayal. At least, when it came to information he wanted. He had to be specific, sometimes, or Ryou would talk his ear off about gardening or work or whatever it was that dainty boys did during the day when they weren't at home.

But Mokuba wasn't quite a dumb as Bakura sometimes wished. The kid kept his silence, probably just to bother him Bakura realized, and the two of them stared at each other in silence for so long that even Ryou began to look uncomfortable. Even from the corners of his vision, Bakura knew the sound of Ryou's awkward shifting.

The ball of fur in Mokuba's arms made a chirping sound. It was familiar, though Bakura couldn't place it. But he wasn't going to get caught up in wondering. There was a standoff happening and he refused to lose, especially to a _Kaiba_.

"Uh, guys," Ryou said, finally, when the time lapsed was rounding on a minute. "If you're going to fight, at least give me Pascal first."

Mokuba frowned. "I don't know what you're so upset about. I'm here to ask Ryou for a favor. You don't have to do anything."

Speaking was a concession so far as Bakura was concerned. "Who the hell is Pascal?" The syllables were rough and awkward in his mouth – were humans meant to make those sounds? Either way, it was a distraction, he was sure, so he forced them to address the issue at hand. "And why is there an animal in my house? What the hell _is_ it?"

Rather than feel bad about losing, like a proper loser, Mokuba laughed at him. "It's a cat, stupid." It chirped again. "This is Pascal."

A sneer lined Bakura's lip. Yes, that thing looked a bit similar to what he remembered. But he _knew_ what cats looked like, and this one was ...different. Lazier. "It looks fat and stupid," he said. In Egypt, their colors were different; they were longer and taller and looked more feral. This Pascal-thing looked like a carefully shaped pile of pudding covered in fur. Barely related to Bast, if at all, and not worth reverence of any sort.

Mokuba gasped and held the 'cat' close. "How could you even _say_ that? She's very smart and just the right weight! Even the vet says so."

His mouth opened to deliver another quip in return for not telling him in advance about this trip, but Bakura hesitated. Mokuba actually looked offended on this animal's behalf, so maybe he had missed something.

Not that he could fathom how. The thing was a coppery sort, darker on the ears, nose and maybe some other places – it was hard to tell with Mokuba clutching the thing as though it were made of pearls. There was a patch of white just below its neck and, on second glance, had bright blue eyes that looked a little more alert than he'd first thought. Nothing else stood out, though.

"And anyway," Ryou added, "I'm taking care of her for a week."

"And you didn't think to ask me?" Bakura snapped. It was much easier to aim his ire at Ryou. Habit and all. "Just thought I wouldn't notice some wild thing roaming around my territory?" Ryou shrugged.

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "I thought there was maybe a fifty-fifty chance of that." Then chuckled.

"That thing can't stay here," he decided. "I don't want it." Anything in the house that he couldn't control to any degree had to go.

"It's only while we get the house cleaned," Mokuba added. "I'll be by every day to check up on her and stuff. She's pretty independent, so I don't think she'll bother you."

Ryou made some kissy faces at the thing, and Bakura recoiled. "And she's so cute." His voice went all soft. Then he reached forward and plucked the thing out of Mokuba's arms. Ryou cradled it, nuzzled it, and the thing let him; was still as it was handled. "Be careful, or I might not let you take her back."

It was obvious that neither of them were listening to him, so Bakura said again for clarity, "I don't like animals., unless I'm eating them."

"You're an animal," Mokuba snapped.

He frowned, so that they couldn't possibly miss his disdain, before he turned right around and went back to his room. Ignoring him for the favor of an animal was definitely not the best way to keep him from harming it.

Mokuba seemed to realize that, because several minutes later a head full of black, bushy hair peeked in from behind his bedroom door. "You're not really mad, are you?" it asked.

Of course not. It was the principle of the thing. "That's a stupid question." Cat or squishy-pudding-cat, it was just an animal. A pet. Bakura's pets were allowed to have pets of their own, he supposed. That thought put him in a considerably better mood.

Mokuba came into the room fully, hair giving way to a face and body that moved toward him, closer. "I wanted it to be kind of a surprise," he admitted. "Since I have an excuse to visit every day."

Bakura wasn't sure how to respond to that. He never did, when Mokuba started being sentimental. And he hated surprises anyway. "I hate those," he said aloud, just to make the point.

Hands pushed at the door until it close with an audible _click_ and when he turned to face Bakura again, Mokuba smiled. "You'll like this one, though, I think."

Those same hands reached down, unbuttoning and unzipping and while Bakura thought it the great start to an apology he didn't want to admit it. So instead he focused on what he was being told. The part he liked. "...a week, yeah?"

"Seven whole days."

"Of this?" And that was the real question. Because Mokuba stopping by to make sure that thing was still around didn't mean Bakura would get to see him getting undressed each time, either.

Though they never talked about it, Mokuba's usual visits were currently sporadic at best. It wasn't like Bakura could (or wanted to) just stroll up to the Kaiba Mansion and demand the time he wanted. That would mean dealing with that cunt, Seto; it'd also mean that someone else would know about them besides Ryou. But Mokuba wasn't his responsibility and that was too much work.

Coincidental convenience was acceptable, though.

"I dunno. Maybe. If you want." Mokuba shrugged, then stretched and approached the bed. "Promise not to eat her?"

They both knew the thing wouldn't be worth the trouble, but Bakura would be damned if he were the only being suckered into anything. "This. Every day. Say it," he demanded, even as he pulled off his own shirt – he was not one to turn down gifts. The heat of want pooled in his belly and at this point he cared a little less about their discussion and a little more about also being naked.

"I'll make sure I'm here every day," Mokuba said, climbing into the be next to him, "and I'll make sure we have sex every day, too." There was a devilish grin on that face, and a tongue brushed over the top lip before it was pulled between teeth. "There. I said it. Deal?"

It was hard to hide what excitement he felt while squirming out of his pants as though they carried the plague, but he managed. "Good enough."

* * *

So... Bakura is weird. He's got some stuff going on: having been possessed by Zorc, then his soul basically emptied out and worn by Zorc in the Ring and then being kind of stuffed back into it at the end (at least, in this headcanon). I guess keep that in mind while you keep reading. I didn't want to focus on the details of his emotional hangups, because that's complex enough for its own story - not to mention that Bakura discussing anything emotional would be like literally pulling teeth out of a child's mouth - so it's just the residual stuff affecting him here.

If anyone has questions about this headcanon or wants to know more about, drop me a review or a PM. Either one is fine!

I thought about changing the title several times, but it honestly is an accurate descriptor for what's going on, so I guess I'll leave it for now.


	2. Day Two

2.

Much to Bakura's surprise, Mokuba kept good on their deal – at least the next day. Ryou was off somewhere, working or whatever it was that boring sacks of meat did in this time. Most importantly, he was out of the house, and there was little time wasted during his absence. Thanks to Mokuba's enthusiasm they didn't even make it upstairs. Instead they fucked on the carpet in front of the couch, and on the couch, and behind the couch and Bakura wasn't entirely displeased.

It wasn't until after, when they were picking up discarded clothes to relocate to Bakura's room that he spotted the cat again. "Has it been here the whole time?"

"What does that even mean? Yes, I left her here yesterday. Don't be an ass." From the moment Mokuba set his eyes on it, the thing was given his full attention. Even naked, covered in sweat, he paused to reach down and pet it. "I told you she wouldn't bother you. You didn't even know she was here."

But for an animal to be in Bakura's house for over twenty-four hours without him encountering it was a strange concept. "Where did it sleep?"

Mokuba shrugged. "Her bed is in Ryou's room, but it could be anywhere. She likes finding places to sleep where no one else will look."

But it didn't end there. After they showered and re-dressed, the cat had Mokuba's attention again. Rather than stay in Bakura's room with him, Mokuba went back to the den with the thing and – well, _played_ with it would be the best word. Apparently there was an assortment of stuff to use with it and of course Mokuba brought what appeared to be ALL of them. Ever.

At first, Bakura thought it so foolish that he simply watched to see how long it would last. How long could a – cat – be entertaining? His assumption of _not very_ was proven quite wrong, however, as they moved past an hour and nearly halfway into a second and Mokuba looked no less amused than before. Even when the thing bounded off for a few minutes at a time and returned, the kid was patient. So much time lapsed that even Ryou returned, which was a bit more than irritating.

What if he wanted to have another go on the floor again? To make things worse, Ryou became enthralled by the animal as well, so they were _both_ petting it on the couch. Bakura shrugged off the entire situation and went to his room.

Later, after Mokuba left, he asked Ryou, "What's so special about it?" The way he saw it, animals were good for two things: traveling and eating. Period.

Even as he posed his question the thing was curled up in a ball on Ryou's lap. "Well, she's adorable, for one," was the answer. "But – ah, I'm not sure how to put it in a way you'll understand. She's a good companion. _Aren't you?_ " Ryou added in an oddly pitched voice, fingers stroking the thing's back.

Companions were supposed to be useful. Besides roll around the floor, chase after things and sound like a bird instead of 'meowing' properly, what else could it do? "It looks like food," Bakura declared.

Ryou bundled it close, scooping it protectively into his arms. "That is just the worst thing that you just said." A sigh followed. "Listen, I always wish I had a dog or something, from the moment I lost Amane, but I couldn't have one. Some pets are lovely and kind and you can pour yourself into them without being judged or feeling like they might be mean or betray you."

Was that all? Bakura rolled his eyes. "That's just because they're not people. That thing could be plotting to murder you and you couldn't know."

"She's obviously not as good at it as you."

He scoffed at the very idea. "Obviously."

"You're missing the point. Taking care of anyone is cathartic. And I'm sure Pascal appreciates Mokuba for all he's done. She's a very good cat. Some of the more adventurous ones can get into trouble."

The ball of fur looked up at Bakura from the couch and mewed like a proper cat. "I guess," he replied, and then added, "We're not getting one, though."

Ryou sighed. "Why don't you try holding her?"

"If you put that thing in my arms, I _will_ eat it."

"But Mokuba said you promised!"

"I'll just get another one. Now that you mention it – I've seen some of these things in the alleys downtown. I could probably just grab one of them."

"That's not the same at all." Ryou frowned. "It'd be like replacing me, for example."

"I can do that easily. Just kidnap Yuugi. He'd make a great substitute Ryou."

"Not the same."

"I beg to differ."

* * *

This addition is short, but it contains some in between the lines tidbits for later, I think.


	3. Day Three

3.

The second time he encountered the thing on his own, he was watching TV. It didn't fool him for a second as it tried to creep in, and he gazed on skeptically as his door opened just a smidgen, wide enough for it to slink inside. No one came into his room without permission. He could see its nose sniffing, that it was ready to snoop around and explore. Well, Bakura was having none of that. Especially since Mokuba would be around to deliver his daily fuck.

He could get used to that idea. But he wouldn't, not if it meant having to keep looking at that thing.

"Don't you dare," he said to it. "Go somewhere else."

To his surprise, it did. Turned right around and retreated.

Now he was intrigued. Maybe it was a fluke. Scared of him, probably; could smell the evil on his bones. If there was one thing animals were usually good for it was sensing evil things. Even mice could do it. So this thing probably could – especially if it was actually a cat. He was almost flattered.

So naturally, he followed it outside. It looked back at him briefly, pausing a little ways down the hall. Bakura narrowed his eyes and said, "Go away." The sneer he added wasn't necessary, but he did it anyway.

It shot off to the right, into Ryou's room, and that was the end of it.

"Yeah," Mokuba told him later, when he asked about it. "Training cats is hard, but over the years she's put that together. If you say 'go' she'll usually leave the room. Or at least the spot she's in. Seto doesn't like her either, so-"

Bakura didn't like being compared to Kaiba at all. "I never said I didn't like the thing. It's just an animal." Why waste perfectly good hate on something that wouldn't notice or care either way?

"You actually said yesterday, very loudly, that you don't like animals at all."

He shrugged. "That's more like the idea of them. Of keeping them. It's stupid if they're not carrying anything or helping you find something. You're just... wasting resources taking care of them."

The look on Mokuba's face in reply held an expression that he didn't like, eyes narrowed and lips poised as though to speak. It wasn't anger or hurt – it was a pensive sort of expression, one that told Bakura that he was being considered with more scrutiny than he liked. Once people started thinking, they began making connections and he did hate when people thought too deeply about _him_.

So rather than wait for Mokuba to form his next retort Bakura dragged him upstairs, tugging roughly on a wrist to lead him.

When they stepped into Bakura's room, the thing was sitting on his bed. It looked unconcerned, as though it belonged there – as though the room wasn't Bakura's at all. But once it spotted Mokuba it leapt off quite gracefully, and the kid didn't waste any time picking it up, hands pulling away from Bakura to rub its belly and whisper to it.

 _Well, fuck._ Was there any chance he was going to get laid, now? He put on his most impatient face and cleared his throat.

"Why don't you hold her for a bit?" Mokuba asked him.

"Why does everyone want me to hold it?" he growled, frustrated. "Why do you even have a cat? Aren't you too busy with school and work, or ...whatever it is that Kaibas do?" Bakura had watched him waste hours on that thing – it had to be habit, rather than the exception.

But Mokuba still cooed to the thing for a few seconds longer before putting it down again; it shot out of the room immediately. "Bakura, are you jealous of Pascal?"

"Hell no. I have opposable thumbs. I can _steal_ a cat. There's no need to be jealous of one."

"Envy and jealousy are different, you know–"

"And neither apply here." Bakura was actually a little insulted. "I just don't understand why you have one. Now you've got Ryou thinking about it – he hasn't asked, but I know that look. We are _not_ getting one of those. We don't need one."

"You mean another one?" The smugness on Mokuba's smirk held something nasty, and it was delivered straight away. "Besides you, I mean."

It wasn't that the sting of the comment that caused Bakura to snap. He'd been called worse things than a pet before. But the possibility that some _kid_ believed it to be true grated on the last ends of his nerves. Bakura himself couldn't quite tell if was, and hadn't touched the topic of it for that exact reason. That was a sore point for him, with the Pharaoh gone and all. Suddenly, he understood the look on Mokuba's face earlier, the conception of that idea, and Bakura seethed.

A brat wasn't supposed to notice something like that.

"Out," he spat, teeth grit in restraint. Bakura did his best not to reach out and do something violent. "Get out," he said again, just to make sure, "and take your fucking cat with you."

Though Mokuba's expression softened, it was too late. "But what about–?

That was the _furthest_ thing from his mind now – or at least, he was willing it to be. "Get the fuck out, Mokuba, before your brother has to organize a funeral."

Alarm crossed Mokuba's features next and, like his cat, he left without further prompt.

* * *

Yikes. Welp, that's the way the cookie crumbles.


	4. Day Four

4.

The next day Mokuba didn't come to see him at all, but did stop by the see the cat.

Bakura could hear him below, chatting up Ryou, and didn't allow himself to be seen either. Instead of venturing out of his room he thought of at least ten ways he could have tortured Mokuba until he took it back: the idea, the thought, the thought of the thought of the idea. It all had to go or one thing would lead to another. One of the methods involved literally serving the thing up for dinner and making sure Mokuba ate it. He was pretty sure it'd be effective, since everyone seemed to care so much about it.

This time it was Ryou who bothered him, after Mokuba was gone. There was no hiding in the frame of the door, the way Mokuba usually did at first. Ryou stepped cleanly inside and fixed him with a disappointed stare.

"Mokuba said you were mad at him."

But Bakura's reply was ready. "It's nice to know he can do more than add two-and-two together."

Ryou winced, even though the insult wasn't direct at him. "He was having a bit of a rough day today. I could tell he wanted to talk with you. Maybe you should call him?"

It wasn't that simple. Some lines shouldn't be crossed. Bakura looked at Ryou and sighed. "Do you ever get tired of being so fucking _good_?"

The way Ryou's lips stretched down at the corners made the answer clear.

"Anyway, I'm not calling that brat. If he misses being fucked so bad he can apologize." Because saying the wrong thing and then feeling awful wasn't an excuse for others to go easy on anyone. Mokuba was _supposed_ to feel bad, and deal with it.

"That was a bit TMI," Ryou said, cheeks turning a rosy pink. Bakura supposed it didn't matter if he'd heard them at least a dozen times – Ryou would pretend he didn't because it was a _nice_ thing to do. "But anyway, just – I don't know why you're fighting, but maybe consider forgiving him?"

For nothing in exchange? "Never."

"I don't know how he deals with you."

"The same way you do. _Don't._ " And that was one of the truest thing he'd ever said. It was okay to say that out loud. As much was he hated it, there were very few parts of himself that he could hide from Ryou, who had already poked around in his head. At least they respected each other enough not to mention the things they'd buried deep.

Shoulders slumped as Ryou sighed. "Fine. Can I ask for another favor then?"

Bakura grunted his consent. Anything to not be talking about Mokuba.

"I'm going out for a few hours. Can you put some food into Pascal's bowl about an hour from now?"

 _Oh, no no no_. Bakura knew what was happening, and he wouldn't allow it. "Bite me."

"Come on! You don't have to hold her or even touch her to do it. I'm just going to give you a bag and you empty it. That's all. Please?"

Hands ran roughly over Bakura's face, up into his hair. Did everyone here think he was an idiot? "What do I get in return?"

Ryou shrugged. "The knowledge that your friend's cat isn't dying of hunger?"

"It has to be something I _care_ about?"

"You're absolutely cruel."

"So, who was asked to take care of that thing again?"

When Ryou mimicked his actions, dainty fingers stretching across into identical white hair, Bakura knew that he'd won. "Ugh, fine – what do you want?"

That matter was fairly simple. "Tell Mokuba to apologize to me."

"What?" Confusion crossed Ryou's face, visible even behind strips of pale skin. "Why can't you?"

"I'm not the one with a thing that needs feeding."

Ryou's foot tapped impatiently on the floor in a steady rhythm. "You are the weirdest – fine. Fine! I don't know why you can't just be kind. Just _call_ him."

But Bakura stood his ground. "I _am_. I could let him stumble around wondering how to approach me without being decapitated – or I could tell you to tell him. He doesn't even deserve that."

So far as this matter went, the request was a win-win. He could make sure Mokuba patched things up quickly and they could go back to their regular schedule without Bakura having to disgrace himself by making the first move. There were three days left and he didn't need Mokuba's silly feelings getting in the way of things. Bakura was stubborn but he wouldn't turn down a romp if one was offered to him. That piece of logic seemed difficult for Ryou to grasp, though, so their deal was struck rather awkwardly, amid questions and suggestions that he would never consider.

It was closer to the tune of two-and-a-half hours before Bakura remembered that he was supposed to feed the thing – but he was sure Ryou wouldn't notice. Animals couldn't complain, after all.

At the very least, it seemed to know that it was going to be fed, though; when Bakura stepped into Ryou's room, it followed.

 _Ugh, this is pathetic._

Good thing Mokuba asked Ryou to do this, because he would have been shit out of luck if Bakura had to make room for this stuff. Their rooms were small enough already. In one of the corners Ryou had cleared a space for a small rug. Two bowls sat atop it. One of them was filled with water – there were even ice cubes in the bowl.

"You have to be kidding me," Bakura groaned. "I can't even get Ryou to get _me_ ice water." That wasn't entirely true, but there was always some lip service delivered with it. He was entirely sure that no one complained when filling these dishes full of anything.

There was a small hammock nearby, which he assumed was its bed. It was around the right size. He didn't even know they made hammocks that small, and the fact that they did infuriated him. What _else_ did they make for these things?

Behind him, it plopped down onto one side, on the floor, and simply looked at him.

"And he says you're smart," Bakura grumbled, pointing towards the hallway. "Go away."

This time, she didn't. The cat didn't move at all, just stared.

So no one was listening to him, then. Fine. "Here's your fucking food, you ungrateful–"

It interrupted him with a chirp, and as he turned the contests of the bag Ryou gave him into the bowl, walked right between his legs to get to it.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but decided that maybe fearlessness was something he could admire.

* * *

It was at this point in writing this that I realized that there was too much story and not enough cats. I'm so sorry.


	5. Day (Night) Five

5.

Bakura knew that feeding it wasn't a good idea. It liked him, now. Just barged into his room whenever it wanted and settled in on the floor. After the first few times he told it to leave, he physically moved it, with his hands. It was a quick movement that he risked only because no one else would see it, not that it was an effective deterrent anyway. Minutes later, the thing was back on his floor, stretched out, making some weird vibrating sound in its throat.

He could have closed the door, but he didn't want to. The idea of having to change anything about how he lived for the (in)convenience of an animal was absurd. So he just left it there. It wasn't bothering anything anyhow, and after the first minutes it was obvious that it wasn't trying to mess anything.

This day he played games to keep himself occupied. Usually he'd leave the house and try to pickpocket some idiots downtown, but the promise of flesh had been enough to keep him around this week. Thinking of it, this whole stretch of time had been weird, anyway. Animals everywhere, Mokuba being around so often and talking to Ryou more often than him, staying in rather than going out, Ryou asking him for _favors_...

If he were honest, Bakura had never considered that Mokuba would be allowed to have a pet. Hell, Seto kept such a close eye on the kid that having the time to look after something could be considered a feat. It wasn't like Mokuba didn't have a penchant for getting lost or stolen (the time he'd been responsible notwithstanding). Maybe that was why the cat was so important. Learned behavior.

"Oh, there she is," came a voice from outside, and Ryou stepped in. He looked around, at Bakura and then back to the thing. "I can take her into my room, if you want. Don't want her to end up in your soup or anything."

"It doesn't matter. Doesn't do anything but eat and poop. If it's not doing those things in my room, then whatever."

A chuckle wafted to his ears. "So you definitely won't eat her?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "I think I would have done it by now."

Ryou crossed his arms. "I'm not sure if I believe that. I remember that one time with the pigeons."

So did he. "That was different. They were bothering me and I had a _really_ bad day. And they were in my way! I warned them." Bakura paused his game. "Did you need anything? Besides annoying me with your constant presence? For someone who remembers what I can do, you sure don't aren't acting like it."

The noise Ryou made in response was some kind of groan. "I suppose I was trying to be subtle about it, but – have you heard from Mokuba at all?"

There were only so many expressions for 'why are we talking about this?' and Bakura felt as though he'd run through all of them in just a few days. "Didn't we talk about this yesterday?"

"Well, yeah, but he usually calls before he comes over."

 _That's not going to work._ He wasn't going to let Ryou's fake worry bother him. Mokuba was probably avoiding him on purpose just to get a reaction. "He's probably busy, then. I dunno. Don't care. Call him yourself if you're that worried."

"Ugh. You are impossible. You're really going to be that stubborn about this?"

Bakura shrugged. "I haven't eaten the thing yet – what else do you want from me?" Too much. Ryou wanted kindness and compassion and forgiveness. That was the trouble with being _good_ – he couldn't just do one thing. He had to do all of the things, all of the time. Bakura just wasn't that selfless, and he'd never been.

And it didn't matter whether or not he wanted their feud to be over, anyway. Mokuba didn't show, for Pascal or for him. A whole day wasted for nothing. The thing just roamed around like it owned the place and from all the attention Ryou gave it in Mokuba's absence Bakura would've thought it did. He made a few snide remarks but didn't get a response, so that was that.

 _Tomorrow_ , he told himself, _I'm going out._ He needed to get away from all this talk of cats and pets and caring – that sort of negativity wasn't good for him.

As it happened, Bakura wasn't allowed to get to the next day in peace.

At some point in the night, Bakura was jarred into wakefulness by some kind of force shaking him. Groggy and startled, he reached out with until his fingers circled around something solid and _squeezed_. It took a few seconds for him to realize that it was Ryou.

"What the fuck?" Bakura rasped as he let go. Then, when he couldn't think of anything else, decided that it was absolutely the right question. The lights were still off, the rest of the house was quiet – what made Ryou think that was a good idea? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Ryou coughed, sputtered, and fell back; eventually just lowered himself to the floor to catch his breath. "I – you couldn't hear your phone?" he breathed deep and panted. "It's been – it's been going off for the last twenty minutes, I think." Another cough. "I think Mokuba's outside."

"Fuck." That was their normal routine. Bakura stayed up late and let Mokuba in.

The one time he let this sack of bones sleep through to the next day instead of waiting for it, _this_ had to happen. This was why he had trust issues.

Bakura didn't regret it, but he did help hoist Ryou up from the ground. Why anyone would try to wake him up by putting their hands on him, he could never guess. It was just a bad idea all around. "I'll handle it," he said, and they both knew it was the closest to an apology that Ryou was going to get. He knew what the thought had been: rather than get the door himself or see if anyone was out there, Ryou wanted to make sure they confronted each other. Asinine.

"Yeah," was the response, weak and gasping, and they both went out into the hallway. Ryou went back to his room and Bakura, downstairs.

The damned cat was already poised at the front door, waiting. Bakura suddenly wondered why he couldn't have left the door open tonight – he would have much rather choked Mokuba anyway. The kid deserved it.

Ryou's ears didn't lie. Once the door was open, Mokuba blew past him, stopping only to pick up the thing and carry it to the couch. All without a single word.

"What the hell?" That was just not acceptable. Ryou did not get choked out for _this_. "If I don't hear a fucking apology in five seconds, you can go right the fuck back out."

Mokuba's practically screamed back, " _Fine_ – fuck! - I'm sorry!" and it wasn't until then that Bakura saw the strain – well, he could hear it now – saw the pin-pricks of tears at the corners of wet eyes.

 _...o...kay..._ It'd been a long time since he'd seen anyone besides Ryou cry, and he didn't even like looking at that. Bakura didn't know what to do with crying women other than slit their throats so that they couldn't cry anymore, and that wouldn't do. Ryou would never forgive him. Then there'd be police all over the place and _Kaiba_ would get involved and it was too messy an option, overall.

The kid curled up on the end of the couch, knees drawn up, the thing clutched against his chest. It made that weird wound in its throat again, lapping at Mokuba's cheeks and paws over his shoulders.

Was Mokuba hugging a cat?

This put Bakura in a difficult position. He didn't just let people talk to him that way but on the other hand – he didn't want to have to talk to anyone bawling their eyes out, either. Mokuba obviously wasn't there to see him, insult on top of injury again, and he had an inkling that getting laid also wasn't happening any time soon. So...

"Right. So. You know where everything is," Bakura said. Ignoring the entire situation seemed the best route to go at the moment. Maybe later Mokuba wouldn't look like someone hit him in the face and stole his lunch, and they could pretend they hadn't seen each other.

 _Wait._ Had someone done that? Because he would _love_ the excuse to actually punish someone for _something_ , considering that everything around the house was off-limits for some reason, including the damned cat.

So he asked. "Did someone hit you?"

Mokuba sniffed, "No," and then rubbed at his eyes.

Unfortunate. No reason to get worked up, then. Bakura crossed the living room without another word. There wasn't much he could do and standing there watching was just going to be awkward.

"You're really just going to leave?" Mokuba asked, when he reached the first step.

 _Goddammit, there it is._ His patience, breaking.

"What am I supposed to do?" Bakura snapped. "I don't even know what the hell is going on. You've been fucking weird all week, drop off some weird animal I didn't even know about; you come by at gods-know-what time without telling me and I almost choked fucking Ryou to death for waking me up not to fucking blow me or _anything_ even though you promised, but to hold a cat while in tears and I'm supposed to stay here and do what? Hand you tissues while you tell it how much you love it?"

Why couldn't have Mokuba just kept fucking quiet so he could go finish sleeping in peace?

There was a long pause between them, and he waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew the kid well enough, and the answer would only be one of two things: he'd leave or he'd cry more and Bakura prayed openly for the former.

What he got was neither. "...I... meant that – well – you left the door open again. You _asshole_." Even through the sound of muffled sobs, the words burned a bit more than they should have.

A simple glance confirmed it. Light spilled out onto the front deck, fading down the small set of stairs that led inside or out.

But Bakura refused to back down. Silence prevailed as he took his walk of shame past the couch again, avoiding Mokuba's gaze the entire way.

"You're a fucking idiot, Bakura."

He wore the statement like armor. It was the only recourse left when he was actually wrong. "You should be used to it." The door was pressed closed with more force than needed, and just for extra affect he locked it, too. Then he had to turn again. And he couldn't escape Mokuba this time.

"This is why I need her," Mokuba told him, eyes red. "Because sometimes, doing what I do is _hard_. We can't all sit at home and do whatever we want. I don't have Ryou. I have Seto I have him screaming at me – everything has to be perfect, absolutely perfect. Exact. Precise, or I've failed. I'm a failure and there's no point. Years down the drain. It's a lot of pressure, and I can't–" Mokuba paused for a moment, and wiped his eyes. "won't - count on anyone else. So I'm _sorry_ I hurt your feelings before, but if I want to spend what little time I have taking care of Pascal you aren't going to stop me."

"...fine," Bakura said, then continued up the stairs.

Mokuba was smart; too smart for his own good, like his stupid pet.

There was no point in talking about it. Between those lines were things that Bakura didn't want brought up, more sore and soft spots, a landmine of them and if Mokuba grazed just one they'd be in this cycle all over again. He realized, too, that the kid had his own field of them and there was no way Bakura was going to step even a toe into that.

After all, he'd gotten the apology he asked for.

* * *

I tried cutting some parts of this, after, but some meanings would be lost and I didn't want to have to deal with that, so here it is! I hope that people who like Kaiba don't judge me too harshly on this - I am in no way insinuating that he's being intentionally awful to Mokuba. It's just that Mokuba understands the position he's in and what he represents to his brother and in other ways and is being overwhelmed by it.


	6. Day Six

6.

Unless Pascal could change colors, there was another cat in the house. Or maybe he was hallucinating. Bakura desperately wanted it to be the first one because after everything he'd been through this week he was really close to snapping: still not laid, restless, and now it seemed like there were two cats.

At least the thing being able to change colors would make it interesting, even if not suddenly useful.

 _There's fucking two of them_ , and the second one was asleep at the foot of his bed. This was not how he imagined waking up.

Mokuba was still downstairs on the couch, presumably, and after last night's commotion he didn't think the second one smuggled in. If that turned out to be true Bakura would have to admit he was impressed that anyone could have done such a thing given that performance. But he didn't believe it, and that left only one alternative.

"Ryou!" Maybe he'd finally made it to hell. It was filled with cats. Though, to be fair, that would make it significantly less threatening than he'd ever thought it could be.

There was a lithe, pasty body topped with white hair at his door a few seconds later.

The transitions of expression on this face confirmed guilt. Brown eyes were curious at first, until they saw the stewing anger and the potential recipient of it. Ryou rushed in sheepishly, if anyone could even do such a thing, and picked it up. This one was some weird shade of gray and, when it squirmed and around in Ryou's arms and opened its eyes, had orange ones.

"You've got to be kidding me," Bakura said through gritted teeth. "No. Get it out."

Ryou pouted. "Look, her name is–"

"I don't care what its name is, we are _not_ getting a fucking cat. No."

"You're being mean," Ryou said, and tutted. "Her name is – you're going to love this, actually– "

This entire week was ruined. Absolutely ruined. Were these people concussed, or something? "I said I don't _care_ what–"

"Thief!" Ryou held the cat out excitedly and it kept wrestling in his grip. "Her name is Thief!"

It didn't look like a thief, though; it looked like another goddamn cat. Which was the problem.

"Oh," he added, "and Mokuba made breakfast." Then he was gone with the second thing in tow.

When Bakura joined them to claim his portion of food, Mokuba spoke first. "I didn't have _anything_ to do with that."

There wasn't any reason to believe either of them. At all. But on the upside, Mokuba wasn't crying and for the moment, neither of the things were in sight.

"If I see it, I'm throwing it outside," he told them. Then he pointed at Mokuba. "And yours _better_ be gone by tomorrow or I am going to eat it for dinner."

"They're almost done with the house. I miss having her there." Now that, he could believe.

And it brought up an excellent point. "Why are all of these things girls anyway? Are males rare or something? Males have more meat, don't they?" Bakura was pretty sure that he could eat a cat. It'd probably be all lean muscle, but...

" _Don't_ throw her outside," Ryou told him. "And, I dunno, she just looked perfect."

What breakfast they had was shared in pretty tense silence, especially after Bakura threatened to shove Ryou's perfect cat up his perfect ass and Mokuba made a joke of it. The three of them stayed huddled at the small table in their small, makeshift kitchen until Ryou was done – he shuffled off quietly, eyes darting around to make sure he had one of the things in his sights before Bakura did.

To that end, Bakura didn't know which was worse: trying not to swear with every word he knew between mouthfuls, or the fact that when he finished he was left alone with Mokuba. He didn't want to talk about what happened the night before and he didn't want to talk about goddamned cats.

So he tried to get out of the entire thing altogether. "I'm leaving soon," he announced, getting up from the table. Not that he had definite plans, but he'd make something happen. Anything was better than this, and he'd promised himself he'd go out anyway.

"Me, too," Mokuba replied and stood just after. "But – wait."

Of course, even sidestepping had to be difficult. "What?" he snapped.

"I'm really sorry." Had to be, to repeat an apology. And make breakfast. But it was plain, simple, and there was no whining; of all the things that could have been said, there were worse things.

It wasn't that he didn't believe Mokuba, he just didn't want to talk about it. "Yeah, alright."

"Can we just – forget that all happened? Please?" Much better. "I just – I needed something that I left here and I came and got it. That's all."

That was the most sensible thing that anyone besides himself had suggested in several days. "Thought you'd never ask."

Mokuba smiled sheepishly, shifting on the balls of his feet with impatience. "Listen, Bakura, I don't have a lot of time before I have to go, but–"

" _Yes._ " Bakura knew that look well, and he absolutely grinned. Finally, life was making sense again.

"I've been waiting for days."

"Who's fault is that?" Not that he was being empathetic.

Mokuba rolled his eyes, but that smirk stayed in place. "On the floor or upstairs?"

The question itself made Bakura laugh. It was a silly one at best. "Both."

"No time."

" _Make_ time. You _owe_ me."

* * *

I think that I might have a fetish for torturing Bakura with cats now. It's a real problem. I might need to go to a support group.


	7. Day Seven

7.

The sight of both Mokuba and Ryou petting lounging cats made his lip curl. That grey one, it was nothing like Mokuba's and that much was clear in the last day or so. It flaunted its presence, and worse yet, was quiet. The furball made absolutely no noise, which resulted in Bakura always searching for it when he entered a room, and intense staring contests whenever he was aware of its presence. In even as short a time as the last six hours, he found the thing as many times and one of them was it trying to sneak into his room. Again.

Ambitious, but foolhardy. And, admittedly, it wasn't as smart as Mokuba's – he couldn't just tell it to leave, after all.

'You two look ridiculous," Bakura told them.

"I'm okay with that," Mokuba shot back.

The two cats were sniffing each other, it looked like, and Ryou watched with avid curiosity. "Do they like each other?"

Bakura resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands and walk away. "You taking that thing with you?"

"Pascal? Yes," was Mokuba's answer. "They finished a day early, like I said."

"That other one, too."

The copper one chirped, and to Bakura it sounded like a laugh.

"No!" Ryou said. "Thief is ours now."

"No, it isn't."

" _She_."

"Whatever," he grumbled. "I'll just eat it. Might as well. Haven't had a single cat all week."

Mokuba didn't even try to hide his laughter. "I think you just have a cat now, Bakura."

The grey thing hopped down from Ryou's lap, circled around the couch and, after crossing over into the small dining area, jumped into one of the chairs. Orange eyes trained on Bakura the entire time. Thus, the beginning of another staring contest.

"I think she likes you," Mokuba said.

That was unlikely. It probably knew its life was in danger. "You're ruining her concentration," Bakura said, as she blinked casually and turned away from him. Victorious, he focused back on the two animal-lovers. "There's only room for one Thief in this house. It's me. Thief. King. Extraordinaire, over here. In case anyone forgot."

Sometimes they did forget. He knew they did.

"You'll get used to her," Ryou positively beamed. "No one is saying she's a better thief than you."

But he begged to differ. "Then why does it keep staring at me?"

Mokuba piped up again. "I _said_ I think she likes you." Bakura sighed. "It's okay. You're my favorite thief."

Ryou chuckled softly. "Mine, too."

Bakura thought it ungrateful to point out that he was the best at it and so worthy of their favor regardless, so instead he acted as though they hadn't said anything at all. "I hate cats, Ryou."

"No you don't." And no, he didn't.

But he didn't have to admit it. Was there a point to saying anything if he was just going to be ignored? "I fucking hate you, Ryou."

"That's definitely not true," Mokuba pointed out.

Were they just going to take everything from him? There were two cats in the house, one of them was staying, the most convenient of the two was going, no one was listening and he hadn't even gotten what he'd been promised. He couldn't even hate things in peace without correction.

 _You should've eaten that thing on the first day_ , Bakura thought as he trudged back to his room. _Then no one would ever talk to you about one again, and they wouldn't trust you around them._ He was soft, and just as much a sucker as either of them. It was an infuriating thing to have to admit, especially with the two of them constantly bringing attention to it.

And they accused him of being mean.

As per the trend for the week, he didn't stay lonely for long. When Bakura heard the doorknob turn, that was enough to tell him at the very least that it wasn't a cat. So far as he knew, they couldn't do that yet. A head full of bushy, black hair took the guesswork out of figuring out the rest.

"Get out," Bakura said. He picked up the nearest object – a pillow – and threw it. Fluff bounced harmlessly off of the door and landed on the floor.

Mokuba came in anyway.

"You know, even your cat is smart enough to know when it isn't wanted.

There was no reply. Instead, Mokuba flashed those pearly whites and moved closer. At first, Bakura opened his mouth to protest further, to tell the kid that his mood was fucked up and he didn't care about his last installment because there was another fucking cat in the house and the thought of it made his blood boil. But even though he felt less than stellar about the entire week, it'd be a lie.

Mokuba crawled up onto the bed and sat on his haunches, right in front of Bakura. Just sat there, watching, like one of those things instead of taking his clothes like a good little fuck buddy.

At first, Bakura tried to ignore him, to fumble through TV remotes and game controllers, whatever he could get his hands on as a distraction. Mokuba was patient, though; still through a half-hearted handful of channel changes, through as many starts of games Ryou had downloaded and Bakura never played through to completion. It was unnerving, that level of patience, because he'd never had it for anyone else. Not even Mokuba.

Outside of a few shifts in position for comfort, the kid didn't move. Didn't say anything either.

When Bakura's frustration began to out edge his pride, he growled, "You just gonna sit there all day?" The break in silence fortified him; disdain made crystal clear, he could go back to silence if it was necessary. "Don't you have to take your cat home?" _And be anywhere but here, pestering me?_

He didn't like it when Mokuba was quiet. It meant that there was thinking happening, and the kid was dangerous when he started that. Bakura didn't need anyone else prying into him and putting pieces together; didn't need anyone _knowing_ him. Ryou was more than enough, and he could barely tolerate that. The last couple days was proof of it. Dark eyes looked him up and down, and he knew it was too late. He couldn't tell what it was that Mokuba had figured out, but that same bright gaze from the other day made it clear that _some_ question or other was lurking there.

 _Too bad_ , Bakura thought. He hadn't been in the mood for a heart-to-heart when Mokuba was a crying heap on the couch, and he wasn't just then. That was Pascal's job, apparently, to be an emotional sponge. She could keep it. He wasn't built for that.

Suddenly, the patience he'd rekindled was back down to zero, and he quipped, "Why are you still here?"

Mokuba finally moved forward – well, more like crawled - and Bakura resisted the urge to recoil as a hand gingerly rested on his leg.

It wasn't there for long, though, because Mokuba kept on until he was fully in Bakura's lap, straddling hips, and that was ...confusing. If that was all he wanted, why not just ask? The waiting and silence was weird and unwanted and when Bakura was fucking Mokuba's brains out he didn't want to have to worry about what questions or ideas lurked in it.

"Do I have your attention?" Mokuba asked. The voice was too calm, steady, ready; Bakura knew he could have screamed in response and it would've meant nothing.

So he wouldn't give Mokuba the satisfaction. "Never. I dunno what you think–"

He was cut off by a kiss, a peck, contact that was too short to be avoided or for him to respond to. What the hell was going on with this kid?

"I want you to hate me," Mokuba said.

Yes, that definitely had his attention. The prepared 'fuck off' died on his tongue and for once Bakura wasn't sure what to say. _Too smart_ , he thought fleetingly, but not quite; it was more of a feeling – foreboding, spreading through his chest.

"Fuck off," he said, anyway.

"Hate me." This time when Mokuba leaned close Bakura braced.

But the lips alighted on his neck instead; teeth bit down until he hissed and skin was red and ready to be broken. He wasn't able to stop the tingle of a shiver across his body.

"Fuck." He pushed Mokuba back and away. "What the fuck?"

There was frumpy black hair all over the kid's face and it made him look absolutely livid. Definitely undeterred. "Do you want to talk or do you want to have sex?"

Neither. Both? Bakura didn't know what to do with – where had it even all come from? He hadn't asked for it. And hating and fucking weren't always the same thing. But the look on Mokuba's face gave him pause. This was a game, somehow. He could tell when he was being fucked with, though not literally, and this was definitely a trap of some sort.

"You are going to pay for that," Bakura spat, because if he started thinking he'd get lost in all of the layers; they would actually end up talking and he wouldn't get laid at all.

He was done with talking, so they fucked instead. When Mokuba finally left he was wincing.

Bakura watched him and did a poor job at holding back a grin while the kid packed up all of Pascal's stuff. He wasn't asked to help and he didn't offer any. They didn't exchange goodbyes, either. Things were arguably back to normal and hopefully the next time they saw each other it would be dark, like usual. _This daytime shit is weird._ Too much of both of them mixed in and Bakura didn't want to handle it.

A ball of grey hopped up onto the couch beside him. _Right. The other one._ But with Mokuba gone and Ryou out of sight he finally felt alone. _Fuck the cat_ , he decided. It didn't make a difference. Two was impossible, but one – maybe he could deal with that. Or ignore it, at least.

"You're definitely Ryou's," he said to it, "Since you've practically got his heart in your – whatever they call those things. So stay out of my way. Go," he added experimentally, just to test it. No dice. It stayed put and curled up on the cushion.

"Fuck." There was no denying it at this point, really, unless he was really going to eat it.

They had a cat, now.

{FIN}

* * *

Yeah... definitely not enough cat. I'm not really sure what happened to this story in the middle but it kind of grew legs and became a beast of its own. Sorry Jukeboxx I hope you didn't hate it ;A;

I cut out the lemon from this chapter but I'll probably post it up tomorrow as a drabble-thingy. It made this chapter longer than I wanted it to be, and it's kind of violent and such so I nixed it.

Anyway, if you got this far I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading.


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